“You have got a new papa, now; so you may forget the old one.  Now, hold your head up like a man, and follow me.”

Colonel Hurdlestone was lounging over his wine; his little son was sitting over against him, imitating his air and manner, and playing with, rather than drinking from, the full glass of port before him.

“Mrs. Paisley!” he cried, with the authority of an old man of fifty, “tell Glen to send up some sweet madeira—­I hate port.  Ha! little miser, is that you?” springing from his chair.  “Why, I thought it was myself.  Now, mind, don’t soil those clothes, for they don’t belong to you.”

“Never mind, Anthony,” said his uncle.  “To-morrow I will have some made for you.  Mrs. Paisley, are not these children strikingly alike?”

“Why, yes, your honor, they are too much alike to be lucky.  Master Godfrey may lay all his mischievous pranks upon this young one, and you will never find out the mistake.”

“Thank you, Paisley, for the hint.  Come and sit by me, double, and let us be friends.”

“I am sure you look like brothers—­ay, and twin brothers, too,” said Mrs. Paisley.

“They are first cousins,” said Algernon, gravely.  “This child is the only son and heir of my rich brother, Mrs. Paisley:  I beg that he may be treated accordingly.”

“Oh, certainly, sir.  I never had a child so like my husband as this boy is like you.”

“Very likely, Mrs. Paisley,” said the Colonel.  “I have seen many children that did not resemble their fathers.  Perhaps yours were in the same predicament?”

“Whether they were or no, they are all in heaven with their poor dear father,” whimpered Mrs. Paisley, “and have left me a lone widow, with no one to love or take care of me.”

“Jacob Glen says that you are a good hand at taking care of yourself, Paisley,” said Godfrey; “but I dare say Master Jacob would be glad of taking care of you himself.  Here’s your good health, Mrs. P——­;” and down went the madeira.

“Ah, Master Godfrey, you are just like your pa—­you will have your joke.  Lord bless the child! he has swallowed the whole glass of wine.  He will be ’toxicated.”

Godfrey and the Colonel laughed, while Anthony slid from his chair, and taking the housekeeper by the hand, said, in a gentle tone, “You have no one to love you, Mrs. Paisley.  If you will be kind to me, I will love you.”

“Who could help being kind to you, sweet child?” said the good woman, patting his curly head and kissing the rosy mouth he held up to her.  “You are a good boy, and don’t make fun of people, like some folks.”

“That’s me,” said Godfrey.  “Tony, you are quite welcome to my share of Mrs. Paisley; and instead of Benjamin’s, you may stand a chance to get Jacob’s portion also.”

“Will you have some wine, Anthony?” said his uncle, handing him a glass as he spoke.

The child took the liquid, tasted it, and put it back on the table, with a very wry face.  “I don’t like it, uncle—­it is medicine.”